


How Not to Tell Your Dads That Everything in Your Life Is Going to Shit and You Want to Fucking Kill Yourself

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Cats, F/M, Gay Character, Heavy Angst, Husbands, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pansexual Character, Secrets, Set in 2020, Set in America, Short Chapters, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence, if you could call it that?, tagged as explicit even though there isn’t much detail, will rewrite in a few years probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22950580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ethan Green, proud big brother of one, has a secret. His three-year best friend, Max, is overstepping his boundaries. At first, it started out as small little things, like petting Ethan’s hair while the boy was distracted, or coming out of nowhere with a hug from behind. At first, Ethan didn’t think much of it. Then Max got violent, and things escalated, and now Ethan knows he needs to tell somebody. But how will they react?
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 10





	How Not to Tell Your Dads That Everything in Your Life Is Going to Shit and You Want to Fucking Kill Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> please read the tags if you are easily disturbed and/or have experienced something deeply traumatic and wish to avoid awful memories (and possibly a panic attack, depending.)

“Hey, pa?”

“Yes, Ethan?”

“If somebody’s making you uncomfortable, how do you tell them to stop?”

“Well, is somebody making you uncomfortable?”

“No, no, it’s just for a piece I’m writing. Swear it.”

“I see,” a pause. “Then how do you think your character would react?”

“I... I don’t think my character could muster up the courage to say he was uncomfortable.”

“Well, that’s that, then! Now whadd’ya say we go grab some ice cream? I’m starving!”

A chuckle. “Yeah, sure thing. I’ll go grab Sophie.”

* * *

“Sorry!” the young man called over his shoulder, though the volume was not much louder than his normal speaking voice, which was already quiet enough as it is, “Sophie has her art show today and I can’t afford not to be there!”

The boy, Ethan Green, was rather short in stature, about five foot and a half give or take, which his friends ( _absolute giants,_ he thought,) loved to tease him mercilessly about. Atop his head sat short, messy brown hair that cut off just below the ears, which (forget blondes) perfectly complemented his bright blue eyes. He was rather skinny, and weighed (he measured just this week) just around 105 pounds. A small group of freckles were scattered about under his eyes, and though he had no dimples, his smile was charmingly sweet, and the poems he wrote in his free time definitely confirmed the thought that he was the purest being on the planet Earth.

He was quite gentle (rough when he absolutely must be, though he wasn’t very good at it) and friendly, and was definitely the quiet kid of his school, though a much ambiverted and talkative one at that. Of course, he supposed that it wasn’t his fault. After all, his voice was never very loud in the first place. He couldn’t scream if his life depended on it, because even when he screamed his loudest it’d barely be heard two small houses over. In fact, he was so nice and quiet that some went so far as to asses him boring, or even label him a pushover. Calling him a pushover would be incorrect though, as he will always stand up for himself no matter the circumstance. Verbally, of course. Even if he tried to physically defend himself he knew that he couldn’t. He was weak, and he understood that. Understanding his inability to fight made his worry of being hurt while he thought he was alone worse though, after all, how could he expect to get away if he couldn’t defend himself?

Interrupting Ethan’s silent walk came a pair of arms wrapping around his waist. He wasn’t surprised, he had expected this. But that didn’t make him any less uncomfortable.

“Max, hi,” greeted Ethan to the hands feeling up his “Reigen Arataka Bonds with the Youth” shirt. He remembered the time he bought it on redbubble for $17, and almost laughed. _Almost._

Max removed his arms and went to walk backwards, in front of the boy he had just given a nice, touchy-feely hug, and deadpanned, “I like your trans rights shirt.”

Now that was something Ethan could laugh at. And he did. He burst out laughing, and felt just a little more at ease. _(He’s just a more physical person than I am, he doesn’t mean me any harm.)_

Max smiled. It was a bit unsettling, but Ethan knew he was being unreasonable. Max was his friend of three years, and him, with his fiery red, spiky hair, and his sincere hazel eyes, he would never do anything bad. He just happened to be one of those people that don’t look that great when they smiled. 

“Hey,” he began to ask, “You’re going to your sister’s art thingy, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but Ethan nodded anyway. “Well, I know this really cool shortcut through the woods! Wanna check it out?” 

Ethan didn’t particularly feel like taking a walk through the trees, especially when he couldn’t see through to the other side, but he didn’t want to make his friend feel bad, so he agreed.

Before he knew it, he was being pulled into the greens, and taking a nice, calm stroll. When they reached a small, apparently abandoned cottage, Max checked the time. “You have to get there at 3:30, right? It’s only 2:45.” He grinned. “Wanna go in and check the place out? Maybe there’ll be some old grandma bones in there.” Once again, Ethan agreed.

The cottage was small, as cottages tended to be. There was a fireplace with Christmas stockings hanging on little hooks, there were two recliners facing it and a table in between them, probably to set down your hot cocoa while you read a romance novel and forget all about your drink, to the left of it, without a door and wall to separate the two rooms, surprisingly, was the bedroom. it had a single queen bed with a wooden headboard, a soft comforter, and a cozy quilt settled at the foot of it, and looked like the perfect place to sit down. Max seemed to notice it too, and shouted energetically, “Let’s lay down!” He leapt straight for the bed, and motioned for Ethan to lay beside him.

They lay there in silence for a while, just thinking, and suddenly a small gasp sounded from Max. “Look, Ethan!” He pointed up at the ceiling, “Is that a mistletoe? I mean, I guess it was Christmas last time this place was inhabited. Do you...” Max didn’t need to finish them sentence before Ethan sat up in a panic and yelled “No! Are you _crazy_?” Max sat up too, but he didn’t say anything. In fact, he looked rather angry. Ethan started to feel weird, and Max started to move closer, cup Ethan’s face in his hands, move closer, closer, till their breath mingled and Ethan started to feel like he might throw up. “I said no!” he protested, but Max didn’t mind. In fact, Max didn’t mind so much, that he pushed his best friend of three years onto the headboard of the bed, with no warning whatsoever, and with so much force, that it _really_ hurt.

And what he said then, with a click of his tongue, would change Ethan’s impression of him _for_ ever, and even _five_ -ever.

“I go through all this trouble of planning the perfect time to make you into my whore, and you don’t even let it happen easily?”

Ethan did not want to be here.

**Author's Note:**

> i do not condone ANY of the actions taken in this work. it is immoral and is a terrible thing that happens in this world. if you are here because of a disgusting fetish, i will ask you to leave.


End file.
